The Devils I Know (Are the Ones I Don't)
by cnroth
Summary: "I know what you did. I know who you are. And I will never trust you again." —Chakotay's side of the story, told in collaboration with MiaCooper and her story, "All the Devils are Here." COMPLETE.
1. 49488

_A/N: This is my entry for round 3 of the JC Cutthroat Fanfic Competition, Gamma group. My prompt was "Temporal Prime Directive."_

 _This is a collaborative piece, telling one side of a story that MiaCooper and I worked on together. It can be read as a stand-alone, but I highly recommend that you read "All the Devils are Here" alongside mine (because it is awesome)._

* * *

Personal Log: Stardate 49488.5

I realized on the day we met that life as I knew it was over.

I was ready to fly off the handle at some dumbass thing Paris said— no, I don't think he even said anything. Just that smug look on his face set me off. The kid didn't deserve to be anywhere except a Federation penal colony. But there he was, standing on the bridge of Starfleet's most innovative ship to date, helping you track us down.

He said, "Hello Chakotay," and I lost it.

And there you were— Captain Kathryn Janeway of the Federation starship _Voyager_ — so small compared to me. Yet, when you got into my space and gave me a look that could freeze water, I was done. What could I do? I might as well have been a half-meter tall. So, I accepted your scolding and did my best to give Paris the respect you thought he deserved.

I didn't do it for him. You have to know that, Captain. All that I did, it was always for you. You struck me, captivated me in a way that no one and nothing else has— not since I was fifteen years old and staring up at the stars, imagining all of the people and the worlds and the adventures to be had beyond the limits of Trebus.

That day on your bridge, you have no idea what you did to me. I can't decide— have you ruined my life? Ended it? Or, are you saving it? It drives me mad asking myself this question over and over again in my mind. I don't know. I don't know what the answer is.

My crew seems to think it's the former. They respect me. And when they fall out of line, I put them back into it. I do it for you, and for all of us. We'll never survive this trip if we can't learn to work together. It's going to take a lot of work, setting aside these hostilities that have separated us for so long.

Do you understand our anger, Captain? Or, are you wholeheartedly sold out to Starfleet's opinion on us? I'm afraid to ask, because the answer to that question could make or break me. If you give me the answer I hope for, the last holdout in my heart will be yours. If you answer in a way I don't like, it could shatter me. So, I never ask.

I've always considered myself a brave man. It's not that I am never afraid, but I have learned how to control my fears. I guess I have Starfleet to thank for that. But I'm terrified of your answer to that question. No matter what, it's dangerous. I don't know if I could handle it.

There's a part of me that knows, someday, I'll have to learn the answer and deal with the fallout. If I don't, I'll never know; I'll stay stuck in this limbo between trusting you fully and keeping you at a distance. I hate this in-between.

Can I trust you, Captain?

Do you see me as the enemy? Do you pity me? Admire me? Do you even respect me? I think you do. If you don't, you sure make a hell of a show of it. I feel like you do, yet there's this niggling doubt in my mind that says I can't trust you. I would have thought that after over a year together, it would fade away. It hasn't.

Recent events have made me realize that perhaps I was lying to myself about how much you trust in me. You and Tuvok schemed to flush out a spy on _Voyager_ , and intentionally left me out of it. You let Tom-fucking-Paris into your plans, but not me, because I am a Maquis. No matter how long we are together, no matter how much I try to prove myself to you, you will never see me as an equal. I'm still the Maquis traitor circumstances forced you to integrate. I can only be trusted to a certain point.

I'm not gonna lie, it hurt. It hurt more than just my pride. The truth, Captain— the truth is that you— you enchant me. No, it's more than that. Come on, Chakotay, spit it out. I— I love you.

I've fallen in love with you.

So, what really hurts about this secrecy business is that I don't know how to think about you anymore, but I can't stop loving you, either. I don't presume to hope that you feel the same way. Still, I thought we were more than just colleagues. I thought we were friends. And sure, it was foolish of me, but I thought that maybe, someday, we could be more.

I know that I'm your first officer before all else, but no one on your crew knows what it's like to be a captain— to be responsible for so many lives and such difficult decisions. Only you and I know the weight of that burden, and I've tried so hard to make it lighter for you.

What thanks do I get for my efforts? You turned to Tuvok when it should have been me.

Be honest, Captain. My being your first officer is only for show, isn't it?

I don't want to believe that. I want to believe that it was genuine— that you have been genuine with me all this time. Even so, I can't help thinking that you haven't. Am I nothing more than your token Maquis officer? Technically, I have authority. Technically, I can command this crew in your absence. Yet when it really matters, you don't rely on me. You don't trust me to be a professional, to separate personal feelings from my duty to this crew.

Haven't I proven myself to be better than that, Captain? Haven't I proven myself worthy of your faith?

Apparently not.


	2. 49491

Personal Log: Stardate 49491.2

I yelled at you.

Did I yell? I tried not to. I tried to keep myself under control. But I get the sinking feeling that I raised my voice. Part of me wants to go back and apologize, but the other part says that you deserved even harsher treatment than that.

It doesn't matter. You're the captain; I'm your first officer. That means I show you respect, no matter what.

Except, I ran across a file today— one that could expose something you've tried to keep hidden. There's a part of me that wants to delete it and forget it exists. Maybe that would be for the best.

But my judgement hasn't been great when it comes to attractive women. And, considering recent events, I'm not so sure that my faith in you has been well placed. What if I've been wrong? Could I have led my people astray?

You see, when we first agreed to combine our crews into one, I knew that the only way this was ever going to work was if I gave myself wholly to the hope that you would be worthy of our trust. Oh, believe me, I had my doubts. I haven't had good interactions with Starfleet ever since I resigned my commission. But I knew that my crew wouldn't trust you or your people. Someone had to take the first step, and that someone had to be me. I was their commander, so I had to be the one to believe. I had to set aside any doubts, cram them into box and lock it away. If I didn't, we would tear each other apart, and we would never survive the journey home.

But, about a week or so into the journey, Seska came to me, whispering her fear and suspicion into my ear. And that little part of me— the part that doubted you— wanted to believe her.

I don't know how she did it, but she got her hands on this ugly little file in your record. It was way above her clearance; hell, it was even above mine. She should not have been able to get it, but she did. Now that we know what she really is, well, maybe it shouldn't be such a shock.

Seska was always brilliant at hacking computer systems, so that's what I chalked it up to. Of course, I gave her the old runaround of everything that was so wrong and harmful about what she did. But she was a Maquis. Stealing intel was what we all did. I didn't want to report her because I knew that the Starfleet in you— and if not you, then definitely Tuvok— would never trust her again. And I needed us to trust each other.

I didn't read the file back then. I deleted it without even looking at it. I didn't want to know, because I had to make this work. In any other circumstance, I would have reveled in the opportunity to know your every dirty secret. But on _Voyager_ , there were bigger things at stake. I didn't want to know something that would make my faith in you waver.

I had another opportunity to come clean when Seska revealed what she truly was. But I didn't. I didn't report the file she tried to show me. I didn't say a word. For a while, I've told myself that I was too preoccupied dealing with the shock and anger that came along with the revelation that a woman I had trusted so much— had brought into my own bed— could be one of them.

You can't imagine how humiliating that was. She had been playing me the whole goddamn time.

But if I'm being honest with myself, there was even more reason to keep this fact from you. Our relationship was going so well, and I didn't know how you would react. Why mess with a good thing? What good would it do to upset you when I hadn't even read the file?

I had too much skin in the game. I didn't want you to be disappointed in me. I didn't want to give you a reason not to trust me. I didn't want to destroy everything that we had.

Everything I thought we had.

You see, a funny thing happened. I deleted the file that Seska brought to me, but she didn't. I think she knew that someday you would show your lack of faith in me, and then I'd be ready to know the truth.

I keep thinking about you and Tuvok locked away in your ready room, scheming about how to trap Maquis spies without me knowing. Although my rational mind knows you both better than that, I can't help but get this nauseating sense in my gut that you may not always have my people's best interests at heart.

I keep looking at the name of that file… and I wonder...


	3. 49496

Personal Log: Stardate 49496.6

I've gone back and forth over what, if anything, to say to you about that file. I've read it over and over, and I get angrier every damn time. At first, I didn't want to believe it. It did come from Seska, after all. But the more I study this file, and read up on your history with Starfleet, the harder it is to convince myself that this isn't true.

You see, the file tells a story that you and Starfleet have both tried to bury. I guess the good thing about having an Obsidian Order agent around is that it's part of her job to dig up the dirt Starfleet tries to hide.

I just hadn't thought about how much it would hurt me to know. I didn't expect you to be the one with dirty hands.

But the fact of the matter is, you accepted a mission from Starfleet that you knew was the dirtiest of them all. You broke the Temporal Prime Directive, traveled back in time to the Quatal negotiations, and murdered a Bajoran colony leader. The record doesn't indicate whether your job was to assassinate her or not, but frankly I don't care. You know as well as I do that, in Starfleet, everyone has the right to protest orders that violate Starfleet's ethical principles. Going against your orders may have gotten you court-martialed, but even that would have been better than the alternative.

Did you lodge a formal protest? Had you done so, it should be here in this record. But the lack of such a protest says a lot to me. What is that old Earth saying? _'Silence speaks louder than words.'_ Well, it's true. I can't believe you had no problem accepting this mission and carrying it out. Yet, here we are.

So, allow me to tell you some things that perhaps you didn't realize when you agreed to get your hands dirty for Starfleet.

You knew of her as Dr. Navesh Elkas, but I'll bet you didn't know she was born without a name. Dr. Navesh was an orphan from Dahkur Province, abandoned among the hills. Her family name wasn't a name at all; it indicated where she was found. It was the Bajoran Resistance who gave her the name Elkas, which means 'reckoning.' She grew up in the resistance; they were the only family she ever had, and she was one of their best assets.

She had a daughter. The girl was fourteen years old when her mother died. Tell me, Captain, what was your life like at fourteen? Can you even begin to imagine losing your mother— your only family— at that age?

Navesh may have been a twisted woman, but she kept her daughter out of the war. In prison, she could have claimed the right to have the girl protected by Federation Family Services. They could have had a relationship. Maybe, they could have found healing, like I have found here.

Instead, you turned a teenaged girl into an orphan.

I can only speculate on what you knew about Dr. Navesh before you assassinated her. Surely, you knew that she was involved in modifying a deadly virus to attack the Maquis' enemies; I assume that's why you were ordered to take her out. But did they tell you that she didn't actually invent it? I'll give you three guesses as to who did.

The Cardassians.

Dr. Navesh simply found the Cardassians' research and modified it to turn it against them. After fifty years of brutality, it probably seemed fair to her that they should get a taste of their own medicine.

Now, don't get me wrong. I'm not trying to make her out to be some paragon of virtue. No need to mince words; she was making a biogenic weapon. With the Maquis she took it a step further than the Cardassians did, by turning it against Starfleet.

But what did murdering her solve that prison would not have? You and I both know that isn't the way Starfleet operates. Did you have a personal score to settle? Or do you simply hate Maquis that much?

What hurts the most is that, all this time, being near you is the very thing that has brought me peace. I was so angry before _Voyager_ , but serving you set me free. For the first time since the Cardis murdered my family, I felt alive again... because of you.

It wasn't just that I fell in love with you. There was something in your spirit that felt so uplifting. Even in the worst of situations, you held onto hope. Before you lied to me about Paris' mission, I thought there wasn't a negative bone in your body. You were the essence of integrity, optimism, and strength to me.

Now, I see that all of it was a lie— your peace, your virtue, your speeches about Starfleet ideals, about the value of life, and the need to trust one another. Do you believe in any of it?

Right now, I want nothing more than to expose you for the liar you are. What would the crew think? The fleeters may be loyal to you, but would they change their minds if they knew what you did? You went against everything Starfleet stands for. Would they support me if I relieved you of command? Would they accept me as their captain instead?

Probably not. And honestly, I'm not sure if any of us would survive out here without your leadership.

No, I can't tell them. We can't afford to be divided now. We have to find a way to trust each other. But how can I ever trust in you again?

Perhaps if I had someone else to confide in. A fresh perspective. B'Elanna can keep a secret, and it would be nice not to feel so alone.


	4. 49499

Personal Log: Stardate 49499.5

It's been said that variety is the spice of life, but I've found that irony is even tastier.

Just a few days ago, I was venting to my viewer about how betrayed I felt by you. I went on about how you broke the Temporal Prime Directive and murdered a Maquis operative for modifying and weaponizing a virus.

Now, there's some unknown virus making its way around the ship. I know it's just a coincidence. Still, I can't help but to notice the irony.

Ever since I confronted you about leaving me out of Paris' mission to the Kazon, you've been apologetic to the point of irritation. Honestly, Captain, I'm over it. You made a mistake, and want to make amends. I get it, I really do.

That's not what bothers me now. And, honestly, the only thing that can heal the wound Seska's file left... is time.

No, what bothers me right now, at this very moment, is your service record. It contradicts something in the file Seska found, but only a little. According to this, you were still in command of the _USS Bonestell_ when you accepted a confidential mission— the very mission detailed in the file Seska found. It reads that you left _Bonestell_ under the command of your first officer for several days while you were on this mission, and then resumed command when you returned. Yet, the file Seska found indicates that you were in between command postings at the time.

It's a small discrepancy, but enough to raise suspicion. Now, I don't know what to think— who to believe. Did Seska manipulate the file, or did Starfleet manipulate your record?

Both options are equally possible. Either way, it's sloppy work. Too sloppy.

But there's something else, something even more suspicious. You see, Captain, I just met with B'Elanna about that file. She noticed that the virus Dr. Navesh was engineering seems to act in a very similar way to the virus now spreading around _Voyager._ It progresses from headache and nausea, to dizziness and fever, then difficulty breathing and hallucinations.

Ironic, isn't it?

Even if I know, logically, that this is all a coincidence, I should still take B'Elanna's findings straight to you. You and the doctor should know anything and everything that might be remotely connected to our current problem, no matter how much you both insist this is a Delta Quadrant virus.

But what would you do with this information, even if I shared it with you? For all I know, you'd bury it. If you'd rather murder an operative than arrest her, what would you do to me for uncovering your dirty secret… or worse, for sharing that secret with B'Elanna?

God. What would you do to B'Elanna?

No, I need more answers. Hard evidence. I need to figure this thing out. I need to know that my people will be safe before I risk everything we have here. I need more time.

Or, maybe, I just need a good night's sleep.


	5. 49501

Personal Log: Stardate 49501.0

In the space of twenty-four hours, the virus has grown from two people with relatively minor symptoms to seven people with severe symptoms. This morning, for the first time ever, Ensign Kim missed a shift on the bridge.

He was unconscious in his quarters.

I don't know what to do. Should I tell you what I found? Surely, you must have noticed the similarities already. You delivered samples of the virus to Starfleet. Hell, for all I know, you've already briefed the doctor about Navesh's virus.

Would you tell me if you did?

Still, I can't shake the feeling that I need to talk to you. But how? How do I even begin to address the subject with you? I've played it in my head a hundred times, and each one ends with you in denial or me in the brig.

Besides, who's to say that you know anything about how the virus works? Maybe that wasn't part of your job. Maybe you made it a point to know as little as possible about the mission, to distance yourself from it. Maybe you're just as ignorant as the rest of us about this Fina virus threatening our crew.

I need to see it for myself.

* * *

Personal Log: Supplemental

As I stood outside the quarantine field in sickbay and observed our infected crew, it hit me that not a single one of my people are in there. No Maquis have reported to sickbay with symptoms of Fina.

And so far, all of the affected crew are human.

The doctor insists this virus is engineered, not naturally-occurring, and he has confirmed that Kes' Ocampan physiology makes her immune. But why would a bioengineered virus from the Delta Quadrant infect humans? And how could it possibly discriminate between Starfleet and Maquis?

I get the sinking feeling that there's another traitor on _Voyager._

Surely, you've already figured this out for yourself. Yet, you haven't said a word to me. You were so curt outside of sickbay this morning.

Do you think I did this?

Even if you don't suspect me of foul play, you left me out of the loop. All those days you spent apologizing for not trusting me, and you still can't back up the sentiment with action. But I won't let your suspicion enable this virus' spread.

It's time we both lay our cards on the table.


	6. 49501-7

Personal Log: Stardate 49501.7

What the fuck just happened?

A few hours ago, I sat with you in your ready room. I did my absolute best to stay calm as I told you about the information I found. I gave you the chance to own up to it, to explain yourself. And honestly, Captain, I was willing to try and understand.

Now, I'm pacing across a two-and-a-half meter box behind a forcefield.

 _"Get these Maquis off my bridge."_

Your words keep playing over in my head. It's what you said to Tuvok when you ordered him to throw me in the brig, and lock my people in their quarters. I asked what happened, and you said, "Mutiny."

 _Mutiny_.

" _Get these Maquis off my bridge_."

Do you really think I did this? After all this time, all the loyalty I've shown you, do you really have such a low opinion of me? People are dying because of this. How can you possibly think that I would infect our crew. And for what? To seize control of _Voyager_?

Believe me, Captain. If I had wanted control of _Voyager_ , I'd have it— _without_ collateral.

Or is your accusation just a cover, a way to discredit me now that I've confronted you with the truth of what you did? You barely had a chance to deny it when the doctor called to report Lieutenant Rand's death, but something in your eyes wasn't right. When you rushed off to sickbay, I told myself it was shock. I was worried about you.

Then, you came back, and I finally realized what I had seen in your face. Fury.

" _Get these Maquis off my bridge_."

What the hell am I supposed to do? You are judge, jury, and executioner.

Clearly, you have decided that I cannot be trusted. I look back now, and I wonder if these past months have been nothing more than some twisted trial in which you judged me guilty before we even met. To you, I have always been guilty. To you, I've always been a traitor.

How did you put it before, back when we were watching Seska and Carey for treason? " _An enemy of the Federation._ " I should have known.

Maybe then I could have avoided falling in love with you.


	7. 49502

Personal Log: Stardate 49502.0

You were sick. You were dying right before my eyes, and I missed it. I knew something wasn't right when I met with you— when the doctor interrupted us with his awful report. In my anger, I convinced myself it was nothing more than your contempt.

But I was wrong. You were sick. And now, you could die.

What have I done?

I spent a grand total of two hours in the brig before Tuvok came for me. He informed me that you had a meeting with him, in which you explained why you believed me to be guilty. Tuvok told me what you said— that you didn't murder Dr. Navesh, that you found her with her throat already slit.

I was so angry that I didn't believe him at first. I thought he was peddling your bullshit. Then he told me you were sick, and have been sick for a while. He said you worked yourself so ragged that you collapsed in the middle of your meeting. He also said that, even as your consciousness faded, you were determined as all hell to stop the virus from killing more of our crew.

After that, I went straight to sickbay. I had to see you for myself. And there you were, lying on a gurney, white as a corpse. Tuvok, ever blunt, took the opportunity to remind me that I was in command of _Voyager_.

I never wanted it like this. Believe it or not, I never wanted it at all.

This morning, I was ready to risk everything to get on the same page as you. This afternoon, I hated you for turning on me. Now, all I can think about is how I might never see your blue eyes dance with laughter again. _Voyager_ is too cold without the warmth of your crooked smile. I am too vulnerable without your strong hand on my shoulder.

You can't leave me now, Kathryn. I won't allow it.

I'm not sure I could ever forgive myself if you spent your last conscious moments being so afraid of me, and so sure of my hatred for you. It's not true, and it never has been. Even after everything this past week has brought, I don't hate you. I couldn't possibly, even if I wanted to. Your betrayals broke me because I love you. How can you not know?

It's my fault. I can't expect you to know what I do not say— cannot say.

What I may never say.

Right now, B'Elanna is tearing apart the file Seska left behind, and Tuvok is hacking into the ship's classified database. Both seek answers that may help us with a cure to what is, apparently, the very same virus that Dr. Navesh Elkas modified and turned against Starfleet.

It seems impossible, but we know now that this is it. Despite being murdered two years ago on the other side of the galaxy, Fina is Dr. Navesh's doing. We don't know how yet, or who was involved in bringing it to _Voyager_ , but at least I know the truth of what you did.

And, more importantly, of what you didn't do.

Under special orders from Starfleet, you broke the Temporal Prime Directive and traveled back in time to steal information from Dr. Navesh— a vaccine formula which she had developed to protect humans in the Maquis from being infected by the virus. So, it's true you went on that mission, but the file Seska presented to me was a forgery.

Tuvok told me all of that, too.

Although your mission was successful, you never reaped the benefits yourself. Soon after returning to the proper place in time, you went through the formalities of transferring _Bonestell's_ command to a new captain. Not long after that, you took _Voyager_ on her maiden mission into the Badlands, with orders to apprehend my crew.

None of your crew were vaccinated against the virus, but we were.

I realize that, if you do ever see these logs, this won't be news to you. But, I repeat your own truth back to you simply because I know that you never could. It was and is your duty not to speak of that mission, and I want you to know that I understand. I understand it all now, and I'm sorry— I'm so sorry— that I ever doubted you.

I just hope I get the chance to tell you that.


	8. 49510

Personal Log: Stardate 49510.2

It's been three days since you collapsed, two since we found the vaccine formula, and one since the doctor and Ensign Wildman developed a cure.

Life can be so cruel in its irony. The formula from the vaccine came from you; it was in the original mission file, before Seska altered it and gave it to me. You stole it from Dr. Navesh, and handed it over to Starfleet. Because of you, it was in our classified database the whole time. Yet, that very virus almost killed you.

If it had killed you, I would never have forgiven myself.

Thirty minutes ago, I saw your eyes dance with relief at the sight of your crew on the mend. I felt the warmth in your fingers, strong as ever when they clutched mine. I wasn't entirely convinced that things would be okay again until that moment, but seeing your face made me promise it to you as much as to myself. Everything's going to be fine. Then, that crooked smile teased your lips, and I knew. I knew.

We have another chance to make this right.

Still, I trusted Seska's word over you. And for what? Being left out of a plan? How could I be so childish? Lieutenant Rand died because of me. You and Ensign Kim and a dozen other crew almost died because of me. Because of my pride.

If you never trust me again, Captain, I'll understand.

* * *

Personal Log: Supplemental

Is it another day? I have no idea. If the doctor submits a complaint about my refusal to abide by visiting hours, you can consider this my confession of guilt. I'll accept any reprimand you give without protest. I have no regrets.

You woke up enough to talk to me for a few minutes. The laughter has returned to your eyes, like it was before we fell apart. You invited me to dinner and offered me your hand. It was all I could do not to kiss you right there.

Maybe, despite everything, you and I will find our way back together.


	9. 49512

Personal Log: Stardate 49512.3

When Tuvok got wind of my being in sickbay all night, he insisted I take the morning off. Believe it or not, I didn't put up a fight.

It means that I am well-rested for dinner with you tonight.

It was Seska behind all of this, by the way. I know you'll find out soon enough— if you haven't already strong-armed Tuvok into telling you— but there it is. Seska found the file about your classified mission and altered it, hoping to drive a wedge between us. While Paris was being held on Culluh's ship, she infected him with the Fina virus. He had been vaccinated against it when he joined the Maquis, of course, but he unwittingly carried it to _Voyager_ where it spread to the unprotected members of our crew.

Leave it to Seska to find a way of tearing us apart, even from afar.

This is the last entry I'll be recording for you, because I have finally made up my mind. I want you to have a copy of these logs, humiliating as they may be, because we cannot allow something like this to happen again. I know we've had our differences, and I don't doubt that we'll have more, but we can't afford to stop trusting each other. I don't know about you, but that's the lesson I've pulled from this past week's events. If it ever seems like I've forgotten that lesson, feel free to remind me of these logs.

I never want to lose my faith in you again. For that, I can take a little humiliation.

The fact of the matter is, no matter what happens or what you do with the confessions I've made here, I'll be by your side. I am, and always will be, your friend. I want you to know that. The Delta Quadrant is hard and unforgiving, but I want to help you shoulder the burden. You're not alone in this, Captain. Not ever.

I'd give anything to change the fact that, for the last several days, I've made you believe I was against you. I abandoned you, and I'll spend the rest of my life trying to fix that mistake. I can't promise I'll never let you down again, but I can promise you this.

From now on, you have my trust.


	10. Epilogue

Personal Log: Stardate 49514.8

I, uh— I felt the need to make a log about this, but I— I don't know what to say, where to begin. A moving speech, perhaps? Or maybe a sonnet? Anything to make this soliloquy to no one seem as incredible as you make me feel.

The last log I recorded was the one I made for you, Captain... Kathryn.

You know, even after all that happened last night, I'm still not quite used to calling you ' _Kathryn_.' It makes no sense. You asked me to. But, I have to admit, it will take some time to get used to.

Still, in quiet moments when I'm alone and thinking of you, I want to say it over and over. _Kathryn_. The way your name feels on my tongue— there aren't words to describe it. It makes me need you even more than I already do.

How is that possible?

I keep thinking that it was a dream. I think, if I were to glance at the chronometer right now, it would tell me that I've just woken up from my half-day rest after spending the night with you in sickbay.

But it's real. You watched my logs, just as I asked you to. You understand why I did what I did, and you don't hold it against me. You came to dinner, gave me your trust, and told me that you love me, too.

And my bedroom still smells like your perfume.

This morning, we talked some about how our working relationship may be affected by this new development in our personal relationship. Honestly, I was a little worried that, once the moment was over, you'd pull away from me for duty. These conflicts of duty and personal are something we'll have to address soon, but I believe we can make it work.

What I know is that I love you and you love me back. Right now, that's all I need.


End file.
